Temptation: Frozen Now

Every time I buy bread I buy "flourless sprouted wheat" and every time I get out of control.

You read yesterday's blog. Well there it is.

This morning, I threw what was left of the loaf into the freezer.

When I came home, the smell still haunted me and I sniffed with longing.

Then I napped.

Post nap, I did "Dynamic Strength and Power" (with Cindy Thorp). It was hard. Then Core.

Then it was time for a snack. Chocolate whey powder mixed with water with half a spoon of flaxseed peanut butter and that half of a banana left from this morning.

Dinner? Disappointing.

Instead, I'd like to discuss a daydream I had as I drove home (or was it TO work?)

Gale Harold is the actor who played Brian Kinney (my HERO) on "Queer as Folk" and lately he's been on "Hellcats", which if you don't know, is a show about cheerleaders. It's mildly entertaining. But when I saw Gale, I cheered because I love him.

He was looking a little thin. So today I thought about what it would be like to help fatten him up.

So let me give you a little background about me. Gay men like me. As in, "Are you SURE you're really gay?" And they like to kiss and hug me. Hold my hand. Cuddle me. So this isn't completely impossible to imagine:

I would walk into his office and he'd be sitting in a chair, slouching (he's a great sloucher) and I'd be carrying a seven layer cheesecake masterpiece.

Okay, let's be real, it's not Gale, it's Brian. Really. Brian. Because it has always been Brian. I'm wearing a black trenchcoat over my lingerie, a black bustier (which really cinches my waist) and matching black lace panties. I shuck the coat.

He turns and gives me a look.

I put the masterpiece on his desk, go over to him and get on top of him, my hands stroking his face. I kiss him.

"Umm," he moans and runs his hands over my body.

"Gay, right?"

He shrugs and pulls off his tie and I kiss him again.

"You might want to rethink that one." I get up off him and walk over to the cake. I dab a spot of it onto his nose.

"You WILL lick that off," he says.

I oblige. And then unbutton his shirt. His skin is smooth, hairless, like I like it.

"Nice nipples, " I tell him.

"Which you will suck now," he says.

I laugh and take a dollop off the cake and smear it over his chest. And then, I pull him to his feet and run my fingers over his nipples, which are now covered in whipped cream and cheesecake. I lick some of it. He picks me up and puts me face down on the desk.

"This abomination is coming off," he patiently removes the bustier and then spins me around and dabs cheesecake on me. It is rich and thick, the cheese portion mingliing with whipped cream and strawberries and he bends down over me and sucks a strawberry off my stomach, carefully avoiding any of the cake and the cream. "No carbs," he smiles wickedly at me.

I laugh.

The cake sits a few feet away, its layers beckoning. Sponge cake, made of the finest flour, sugar, butter and eggs, cream cheese mixed with sucanat and lightly flavored with lemon extract, a layer of sliced strawberries which are fresh, organic and bursting with red juice, a hard dark chocolate crust, like what one might use to cover a vanilla ice cream cone, a layer of sweetened marscapone cheese mixed with agave nectar and then a layer of strawberries, thinly sliced, dipped in white chocolate and last, whipped cream.

"I'm going to feed you," I say.

(to be continued...)